Hey guys! It's Boomerang Butterfly with my very first ParaKiss fic. I've seen the anime and read the manga several times, but I'm still not sure if I'll get this right. Hopefully ya'll will enjoy it. Anyhoo, this is chapter one and yes, I'm doing the unthinkable. I'm writing an Arashi+Yukari fic!Bold for my first try huh? Well, I like bold. Bold is good.

Disclaimer: Paradise Kiss is property of Yazawa Ai and not me. Sorry, you can't sue me. Besides, I'm broke.

Strings

by Boomerang Butterfly

Chapter 1

"Sick and Twisted"

Life has a sick way of turning out.

She, more than likely, would never forget that awful silence. The silence that pierced her eardrums harsher than any screams or whistle or loud song ever could. He was so quiet at the table, quiet and solemn and staring. But he wouldn't dare stare at her. Was he that afraid of what he'd see in her eyes? He really shouldn't have been; there was nothing there.

At least not then.

Initially, she didn't cry. She didn't scream or yell or curse or throw dishes at him because of what he'd just dropped on her so suddenly. In fact, she didn't do a thing. She just sat opposite him at the breakfast nook in her near empty apartment and stared at him, unblinking and still. He didn't speak, and she didn't speak. For a few long minutes, it was so silent she could've sworn the world had stopped spinning.

Then he lifted his eyes to hers and she saw an indefinable emotion swimming around in the deep depths below his furrowed brow. It lay somewhere between guilt and pain and relief, but since there was no word for it anywhere she could remember, she merely crammed all three together and deduced that there was guiltpainrelief in his eyes. And she could also see herself mirrored there in that pool of guiltpainrelief. If she'd had half her right mind, it probably would've scared her how she looked, staring blankly at him as if she didn't care. Which, at this point, she didn't even know if she did or not. It was scaring him though. He fiddled with his fingers and frowned even more, if that was possible, and cleared his throat.

"Say something," he said in a half whisper.

She didn't.

He closed his eyes for a moment, hiding the guiltpainrelief, and the scary reflection that was her, that was shedon'tknowifshecaresyet. Then he opened them again and it was back and she didn't flinch as he took her slender, manicured hand in his and pressed gently.

"Please, say something…anything."

It was almost funny how he begged for her to speak. She, outspoken and blunt, was suddenly refusing to speak. If she'd had half her mind to do so, she'd have probably laughed. But she didn't. Instead, she got up, a lazy IguessIdon'tcareyet expression written all over her beautiful features and walked past him, out the kitchen, to the living room, where she picked up her keys and a curious box still on the empty counter and then headed for the door. He stood up, the frown replaced with pleading on his handsome features.

"Honey…"

His voice, tired and a little strained, called after her before she could walk pass the threshold. Just barely, but enough for him to notice, she turned her head in his direction, long locks of ebony swing past her cheekbones elegantly the way it did when she was thinking or lost in thought and had just been called to attention.

"I suppose I'll come get my things later this week," she said finally, her voice void of any emotion, just under a whisper. Then, slipping on the shades she didn't need for ten at night, she turned the door knob and walked gracefully out the door to her apartment, the one she'd moved out of and broken the lease to, and shut said door behind her softly.

All he could do was slump down back into the chair and stare dejectedly at the engagement ring she'd taken off and placed so gently on the table.

She walked, not sure where she was heading, out the apartment building, just as still and quiet and uncaring as she'd been minutes earlier. By the time she'd reached the street, the lights glowing neon in the dark Tokyo night, however, it suddenly hit her. The moment it hit her she ran. To where, she wasn't aware but her feet seemed to know exactly, and she let them carry her without protest. As she ran, she was dimly aware that hot tears streamed down her cheeks, that a rising ache clutched at her heart, that a part of her felt as though it had been seared and snatched and stabbed and stolen away from her. Clutching her keys in one hand and the box in the other, the sudden realization of what she'd just been told hit her heavy and hard, as hard as her boots hit the cold pavement.

Hi, I'm world renowned model Hayasaka Yukari and I just found out that my fiancée, Tokumori Hiroyuki, has been cheating on me.


Life had a twisted way of turning out.

He didn't cry often. In fact, it had been near forever since he'd cried. Probably back when he was still a kid and his grandmother had passed away.

But he cried tonight.

She was packing her things back up, after moving them in just a few weeks ago and leaving. She was leaving the apartment, leaving the neighborhood, leaving his life, leaving him. She was leaving him for someone else. It hurt too. He wouldn't have admitted it but he didn't really have to. It was written all over his face. Idly she stood in front of him, her hands twisted, her head lowered, an apology on the tip of her tongue.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears near ready to fall at any moment, but that's just the way she was. He stared at the floor, his own face twisted and furrowed, anger radiating off his body like heat. "I'm sorry," she repeated, this time a little louder, her sweet voice sending slivers of pain through is heart, already broken in a billion pieces. He'd cried silently as she finished packing, and she'd been so oddly quiet the whole time. He had a headache now.

"Look at me," she said suddenly, shifting her slight weight from one foot to another. He stared at the ground, at his hands, at his toes but not at her. He wouldn't look her in her eyes. He was too afraid of what he'd find there.

"Please!" she wailed suddenly, dropping to her knees before him, seated on the bed and tried forcing his eyes on hers. "Look at me!" "Why?" he asked, voice hoarse and rough. He scratched the back of his neck absentmindedly, wiggling his toes because they were getting numb from the cold. "Because…because…" she shook her head and took one of his long, bony, calluouse hands in her small ones. "I don't know!" she finally concluded. "I just need to. Please…"

He wasn't really angry, he thought to himself as he rose from the bed, still staring at the floor. He was disappointed. Hurt. Mad, maybe, but not angry. Angry was an entirely different avenue of emotion than anger. He was definitely crazy, he knew. Crazy because he realized he'd known this would happen for a while now. Even when he finally, finally after all those years together, finally asked her to marry him, even when she'd squealed and said yes, even as she'd kissed him right after, he knew. He just hadn't realized it yet. And he'd been crazy enough to believe that maybe it wouldn't happen after all.

To sum it all up, he felt incredibly stupid.

Besides, what did he have on him? Nothing really. Nothing at all. In all counts, most would say he was a failure. And he was a total success. Of course, the only thing he could say he had going for him was his blind devotion, but that didn't count for anything.

He was at the front door putting on his shoes and coat before he realized. "Wait!" she called after him, her sweet little voice straining and stretching and hurting him. "Where are you going?" He shrugged because he really didn't know. And then he finally lifted his head to stare at her, her petite figure shivering from cold and something else…as he stared at her, into her, into her eyes, he found it was an odd combination of guilt and pain and relief. But he couldn't think of a word for all three together so he made his own word.

Guiltpainrelief.

Guiltpainrelief flowed out her eyes, onto her rosy cheeks, down onto her fluffy white coat as she cried. He wondered he she could see the stupidity he felt, or at the very least to pain. She had to have; it was near overflowing again. But he blinked it back, swearing he'd get some aspirin when he got to…wherever he was headed. He turned away and opened the door, cold air hitting him full on in the face, cooling his fevered flushed skin. "I dunno," he muttered quietly.

He was paused at the door for a few more moments when he heard her sniffle and the clompclompclomp of her wedged heeled shoes coming toward him. His name at the tip of her tongue. Her lip trembling.

"I guess you'll be gone by tomorrow, huh?" he asked dryly. He didn't have to look to know she was nodding. And before she had the chance to call his name, he grabbed his keys from the hook by the door and walked outside into the cold Tokyo night, shutting the door roughly behind him, and venturing off to hedidn'tknowwhere.

And all she could do was slouch down by the door and cry as she stared at the tiny engagement ring she was about to take off her left hand.

He began walking but soon was running, not even sure of where to but letting his legs pump, the adrenaline and heat coursing through his veins like the numbness that was slowly starting to take over the pain. He couldn't cry anymore, not even as her words rang through his head. She was leaving, but he was too out of it to hurt anymore. He'd hurt later, he figured and ran harder, breath raspy and foggy in the winter air. Her face and voice and smile and laugh rang through his head, but he couldn't cry. Not even as he thought about the heaviness of it all.

Hi, I'm Nagase Arashi, aspiring rock star, and I just realized that my fiancée, Sakurada Miwako, is leaving me for another man.


Yukari's lungs hurt from running so hard. She knew she had to stop, but she wouldn't until she got there. Not until she was where her feet had led her. So she kept running, all those blocks from her apartment to the home of the key in the little box.

Arashi ran without thinking about how much it hurt to breathe. It was probably time he slowed down but he didn't really want to stop. He thought maybe he'd stop when his legs wanted to. So he kept running, to some where he wasn't sure of yet.

He was surprised to see her at the train station, waiting for the last train with a few other people. She was surprised to see him at the train station, waiting for the last train with a few other people. They were surprised to see each other.

Until they both thought about what could've drove the both of them there.

She still had tears in her eyes and his eyes were puffy so she knew that Miwako had broken the news to him, and he knew that Hiro had broken the news to her. And as strange as it should've been to meet like this, to meet so suddenly after the revelation, it felt right for him to take her hand in his as they sat side by side on the train to where ever they were headed, the chill of the night seeping into their bones, grief passed amongst them like a cold or a contagious virus or a yawn.

"Where you headed?" he said finally. She glanced at the box in her hand and then at him, her sudden comrade and smiled weakly, through her tears. "To where I'll always feel 18," she replied and he laughed bitterly, clutching her hand tighter.

They didn't speak again until after they were off the train and walking down the street towards the home of that key in the little box. She had paused at the door after taking the key out and stared at it for a moment, the solidity of what she was doing hitting her just then and her hand shook as she teared up again. Arashi stared at the door for a few seconds before he took the key from her and opened the door, staring at the darkness blandly and gripping Yukari's hand in his as silent tears streamed down her face again.

They walked in together.

He was laying on the floor, her hand still in his and she was sitting up, tears dried now staring at some of the clothes that had been left to her. "I can't believe he did this to me," she murmured so quietly that Arashi almost couldn't hear. "Neither can I," he lied, knowing that it was bound to happen sometime but hadn't realized it until now. "You knew, didn't you?" she asked, running her free hand through her hair. "Yeah…" he trailed off and turned his head away from the hurt in her dark eyes. "I knew. I just didn't know I knew."

They were quiet for another hour later, just staring at the clothes that lined the wall, listening to the aching silence and each other's breaths. Neither was ready to figure out what they were going to do next.

"I'm sorry, Arashi," she said softly, and squeezed the hand she still held, taking in its warmth. He was silent for a few more moments, then shook momentarily and choked out a reply. "Me too, Yukari," he whispered, as fresh tears fell. "Me too."

And they stared silently and cried silently that whole night, two friends betrayed by the ones they loved for the others fiancée. Two peas in a pod. Hand in hand.

They didn't realize yet how things would turn and twist and wind up in a way that neither would have ever imagined. They wouldn't realize it for while, but when they did it would change everything.

You and I

We're stuck together

Cut and dry

Stuck together

One day we'll see

Of this I'm sure

What this will be

We'll find a cure

But until time gives us room to heal

You and me, we've got pain to klll

Alrighty then! Do read and review. Tell me how you like this one so far. I'll update ASAP!